Misc Post Number 847 (I have no actual idea how many misc posts like this I have)

"Eclairs are one of the main things I've cried over." -- Daisy

Penny: Let's talk about someone else's gifts.

Daisy: I don't have gifts. Only gifs.

Me: Gifs with a t. Their like gifts ... only different.

Speaking of Anders:

Friday both Summer and Mette had friends over. And ... I was mostly unaware of them! There was the occasional peel of laughter, someone asking to use my phone to attach to the Bluetooth speaker for music, someone asking to use my phone to take photos, a shout over some move gone wrong in a game, one of the girls coming to pilfer some sort of snack or to ask if they could take the 4-wheeler down the small lane just south of the farm. (Where, wholly unrelated I am sure, a boy their age lives. [The answer was no.]) But! Other than that, I was pretty much unaware of them all. Not that I am averse to seeing or hearing my kids' friends, but if you'd only experienced kids having friends over at the rental, you would understand how delightful this new arrangement is!

Abe and Kenya were recently in DC again. (In one day they went to about 6000 museums--including the National Bonsai Museum, which I hadn't known was a place that existed.)

Little Hansie reading his scriptures before bed. 

All the birds I heard while Mike and I were sitting on the front porch at dusk the other evening. 

The sword Jesse 3d printed and somehow ... using ... science (?) made light up.

I nearly always feel just a rush of happiness when I see a large number of my kids congregated to one spot. Here are several instances of "kids at the kitchen table for various reasons".

This was for a Come Follow Me lesson. They were supposed to be drawing the wilderness tabernacle of the Children of Israel. But there seems to be a lot of other drawings on those papers.

Dinner one evening with Abe and Kenya up for a few days.

(I was leaving them for a Relief Society dinner, so they got ... hotdogs.)

Kids all gathered drawing who knows what. (Penny likely drew Squidward [as she seems to feel compelled to do when doodling with the kids]. If you don't know who Squidward is, well, just remain in that happy state of innocence.)

Kenya was working remotely while they were here, but the girls still managed to wrangle her in to doing their hair every day.

We are boggled that Kenya, who grew up with nary a sister in sight, can do hair so well while I, who have had daughters about for 24 years, can still barely manage the loosest of French braids.

Speaking of hair. Mette and her two best friends did this. It is temporary. She was delighted.

Abe took his brothers fishing while he and Kenya were here. I like little Hansie getting to be a part of the group of older boys. 

Starling. If little boys are made of "snips and snails and puppy dog tails", she is composed of cats, pink, and apples. It doesn't rhyme as well but is entirely true. (She truly eats multiple apples every single day.)

Starling had a good cry when she couldn't get the tiny pack of bubbles open in time to blow them in the line formed to send off the departing bride and groom at her cousin's wedding a week ago. I told her we would take pictures of her blowing the bubbles later, and it seemed to soothe her. But she was not content with the few I snapped above, and dinner was needing made, so I coaxed Penny to come take over my camera. She did the fun ones below looking through an orange safety cone and some slats of some sort. Very clever. 

Summersby. She and Mette have been staying up late more and more often with the older kids. It takes a toll.

Mike and I were looking through a box of his old things recently and chance upon this certificate advancing him to a purple belt in karate. He was probably age 10. And look whose signature is on it! 

My dad's! 

My dad was a very involved in karate--earning something like a fourth-degree black belt (also losing hearing in one ear from an intense kick to the ear during a sparring match that did permanent damage). 

I knew Mike's family often went to the same dojo (Jerry LeRoll's dojo) when Mike was a kid, but I didn't remember my dad was chairman of the board there. Fun to think of him signing this kids' certificate not knowing it was his own future son-in-law! 

(And have we talked about how much my dad liked Mike before? Of course we have. He was a huge fan. Wanted me to marry him from the start. Daisy was at my mom's last week and happened to read this from one of my dad's old family letter/journal entries: "Nanners continues to go out with an exceptionally fine young man--a returned missionary named Mike Harris, the son of our good friends Al and Gayle who are members of our study group. Al is also on the faculty at WSU, former Dean of the School of Business and Economics and just all around fine people. Young Mike is one of the nicest most likeable guys I have ever met and exceptionally thoughtful re Nanners.")

Going through Mike's things also produced this photo of Mike at maybe 15 or 16.

It prompted this reply from Abe:

"Whoah! I haven't seen many pictures of teenage dad. I was under the impression that he only wore sensible working shoes, but those are pretty snazzy."

And this from Jesse (regarding a policeman from Mike's youth--who I'm sure Mike had very few run-ins with. Haha.):

"Dang! Don't let officer pedelski catch you on that!"

Mette took a few pictures of some of her pets for a school thing the other day.

Almond:

Holly and Rosie:

Pig:

Goldie came over to join Daisy and Penny for a hike one afternoon. (Daisy has been home since graduating with her master's at the end of May. Sadly for us, she will be leaving again to start her fancy pants new job at the first of June.)

Also, I don't think that's how you are supposed to hold a snake. ... 

The End.

Waterboard Meetings, Bike Crashes, and Knee Surgery

Recently, to my surprise and happiness, Mike arrived home earlier than usual from work. My excitement was short-lived, however, as he had only come home early ... so he could attend our local waterboard meeting.

"You can come," he offered. 

"Come?" I asked, aghast. "To the waterboard meeting?"

I know we aren't living in the 1800s. Still, I felt the waterboard meeting was no place for a female! 

Perhaps, if I were a strong-minded woman, husbandless, and, against all convention, running my land on my own, I'd pull up my bootstraps (hard--since I don't know exactly what bootstraps are ... or if I even have them on my boots), and, with dirt under my nails, march confidently into the waterboard meeting to demand my opinions on canal water usage and the like (???) be heard along with everyone else's. I'd demand their respect. And they'd be forced to give it.

But since I do not currently need to rise to the standard of that fearless woman, ... I did not attend the waterboard meeting. (Mike told me after that there were indeed two women there. One who kept the minutes. [Reasonable.] And one who simply came. Well. I am certain she knew about pulling up her bootstraps! (And I will too ... if life ever necessitates that I do. But not a moment before. The waterboard meeting. Goodness!)

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Our Hansie had quite the bike crash last weekend. Poor kid. Here he is being bandaged up by Mike. When I commented on how strange it was that he had road rash and open wounds in so many different areas, Hans said, "Yah. That's because I skipped just like a stone when you throw it across water." And then he sort of demonstrated by hand his body going "bounce bounce bounce." Haha. Good explanation. Poor little adored fella.

Speaking of bouncing. We have finally pretty much cleared out our big storage unit. (Which now means our garage is completely full. Weep.) The kids have been having fun pulling out things that have been stored away for nearly three years. 

And speaking of Hans: here he is doing a little science experimenting for his upcoming 3rd-grade science fair.

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In telling me what she wanted for lunch the other day, Starling asked for "one of those eggs that stays in a 3D circle permanently". (As opposed to scrambled or fried.)

Also, shortly after getting the kids their fair goats, Mike decided to get Starling a goat as well. Starling is too young to show goats at the fair yet, but maybe we will keep this one to produce future fair goats. In the meantime, Starling, after a great deal of private consideration, has named her Kristy. And become quite capable at bottle feeding her all by herself. (Though Mette is feeding Kristy here.)

The little list of names she was considering.

Starling lost two teeth last week. One of them almost caused a major meltdown when it fell down the drain. But siblings, who had experienced lost teeth of their own, assured her the tooth fairy would be fine with just a note.

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What else is going on around here?

Oh, I know! Me! I had knee surgery. 

Comforting to see they made certain to do the correct knee. ... 

I actually feel like "knee surgery" (for a torn meniscus) might be too big of a term. True I was put to sleep, and true I'm still swollen and sore and hobbling two weeks later, but the incisions are only two puny x's (one for a tiny camera and one for a scalpel or ... some other sort of instrument). It feels more like I should say I had a "knee procedure". (Especially because Mike's aunt [who lives up here by us] is on her second full knee replacement and has to go back for an emergency third surgery because somehow her kneecap is displaced. Yes, we best just call mine a "minor knee procedure". Still, this procedure is a "between a rock and a hard place" sort of thing. The surgery itself can actually increase the likelihood of future problems (booo), but I was going on about eight months of not being able to do much with my knee as it was--which didn't seem a great option for life either. So I was finally forced to just cross my fingers and dive in ... hoping this will get me back to normal activity soon.

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Abe often changes our family group text name (based on various things that have come up in family happenings or conversations). Here are two of our recent group names:

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And now, perhaps, a jumble of the other photos I have sitting about.

My friend Jessica from Vegas came up to visit.

Mette making meatloaf for dinner. (Since I love meatloaf ... and Mike doesn't, she also made snickerdoodles. [As Mike likes them and I don't particularly.]) Abe reminded me that it was when I had foot surgery years ago that I first instituted the after-dinner chore chart. Surgery must be the inspiration for all such things because, being down for a few days, I quickly realized how much I was doing that the kids should be helping with. Which has caused me to have a family meeting to tell them about a new official Saturday chore chart. Mike also suggested they start making dinners occasionally. Hence the meatloaf. (Mette likes working in the kitchen. I'm guessing many of their meals will be along the lines of macaroni.)

Kids around the house. (The family room has finally pretty much taken shape. I'm eager to start working on walls.)

Kids and ... kids.

(Everything is looking so green at the farm right now! It seemed impossible even a month ago! I'm sure it won't last long with this drought we are in, but it sure looks pretty!)

The reading room. 

The End.